


Definition of Codependent

by meangreenlimabean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Codependency, Codependent Winchesters, Dean Has Daddy Issues, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean and Mental Health Issues, Gen, POV Dean Winchester, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 15:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4840805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meangreenlimabean/pseuds/meangreenlimabean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's one hour session with the psychologist was just supposed to be part of their cover story. She wasn't actually supposed to figure out anything important about him. Now he can't get her words out of his head, so he's on a mission to prove her wrong. Maybe he'll have a breakthrough instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definition of Codependent

“You’re joking, right?” Dean made a noise in his throat to show how not funny he thought she was.

The psychologist looked at him over her glasses, her expression pleasant but not teasing. “Why would I be joking?”

Dean’s forced smile faded a little. “Did somebody put you up to this? Who are you, really?”

She pursed her lips. “Do you always get defensive when you come close to a breakthrough?”  Dean leaned back in the armchair again. The last person who’d used that word on him was Zachariah, and that didn’t end well.  He sighed dramatically.  The doctor nodded.  “So you’ll do your homework, then?”

Dean sulked the entire drive back to the motel. His appointment with Ms. Head Shrinker was supposed to be just another part of their cover. She wasn’t actually supposed to figure out anything important about him. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe he was just being oversensitive.

Her serene voice played back in his head. “I would like you to find the definition of codependent.”

After stopping for some fast food, he pulled into their motel parking spot with an angry spray of gravel. He slammed the door with his foot and dropped the bags of food on the table next to Sam’s laptop. “Here. Eat.” He pulled out the other chair and sat down, grumbling under his breath.

Sam opened one of the bags and pulled out a burger wrapped in paper, then studied his brother cautiously. “Did it not go well with the doctor?”

He rolled his eyes, hoping Sam would take the hint. He was most definitely not in the mood to talk about his homework. Besides, things were finally going well with his brother, and now that nosy shrink would have them second guessing things. Well screw that. Dean opened the other bag and passed Sam a salad in a clear plastic container.

Sam grinned, putting down the burger.

Dean felt his anger subside a little as he watched his brother dig in to the rabbit food. At least he could get this right. He shook his head, trying to rattle the doctor’s words out of his mind, and shoved a couple french fries in his mouth. Of course he didn’t have a normal relationship with Sammy, or anyone else for that matter. But how could he, considering his life, his upbringing, anything? It is what it is. Forget that lady and her psychobabble.

Only, he couldn’t seem to forget. After they finished dinner, Sam left to follow up on a witness, and Dean was left alone with his thoughts. He ended up pacing the room, arguing with himself. “The definition of codependent. Hmph!” She didn’t know him. They’d talked for less than an hour, and Dean hadn’t exactly been one hundred percent honest.

Finally, just to prove to himself that she had gotten it all wrong, he slid into Sam’s chair and opened his laptop. He typed in “ _codependant_ ” and hit the search button.

> Did you mean  _codependent_?

“Shut up,” he muttered at the screen. He scrolled through the results and clicked on something that looked official, then began skimming.

> “...if you were raised in a dysfunctional family, or had a parent who was mentally ill or addicted to drugs or alcohol, you are more likely to become codependent.”

He chuckled. “Sister, you have no idea.” He kept reading, determined to prove her wrong.

> _Common signs of codependent personality:_
> 
> _1\. Low self esteem._

Dean thumped his fist on the table in triumph. “See? I’m awesome. Hell, I’m adorable.” He smirked, already feeling satisfied with his research. He read on.

> _The tricky thing about self-esteem is that some people think highly of themselves, but it’s only a disguise — they actually feel unlovable or inadequate. Underneath, usually hidden from consciousness, are feelings of shame. Guilt and perfectionism often go along with low self-esteem.  
> _

Dean’s smile faded. Okay, lucky guess. Moving along.

> _2. People-pleasing._

He leered at the laptop screen. “I’m pretty good at pleasing people.” He glanced around, but there was no one to laugh at his lame joke.

> _Some codependents have a hard time saying “No” to anyone. They go out of their way and sacrifice their own needs to accommodate other people.  
> _

Sacrifice. Now that was a word Dean was very familiar with. He angrily tapped the button to scroll down.

> _3\. Poor boundaries_
> 
> _Some codependents flip back and forth between having weak boundaries and having rigid ones. They may feel responsible for other people’s feelings and problems, or blame their own feelings on someone else. Or they may be closed off and withdrawn, making it hard for other people to get close to them._

This had stopped being fun.

> _One consequence of poor boundaries is that you absorb the thoughts and feelings of those around you. If someone you care about tells you something unpleasant, you either believe it or become defensive. With a boundary, you’d realize it was just their opinion and not a reflection of you and not feel threatened by disagreements.  
> _
> 
> _Another effect of poor boundaries is that you help others to the point that you give up yourself. Codependents tend to put other people ahead of themselves. In fact, they need to help and might feel rejected if another person doesn’t want help. Moreover, they keep trying to help and fix the other person, even when that person clearly isn’t taking their advice._

Dean let his hands drop into his lap. He thought about Sam and the demon blood. He thought of his father. He thought about Cas and... lots of things. His shoulders felt heavy, and he felt a headache coming on.

> _4\. Control._

> _No one wants to live in constant uncertainty and chaos, but for codependents, control limits their ability to take risks and share their feelings. Sometimes they have an addiction that either helps them loosen up, like alcoholism, or helps them hold their feelings down, like workaholism, so that they don’t feel out of control. Codependents also need to control those close to them, because they need other people to behave in a certain way to feel okay. In fact, people-pleasing and care-taking can be used to control and manipulate people._

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers and let out a long, trembling breath. What the hell was going on? He scrolled past a few paragraphs, shaking his head. It was too much.

> _9. Problems with intimacy._

“Excuse me! Now I don’t--”

> _You might fear that you’ll be judged, rejected, or left. Codependents use sex to optimize the chance of acceptance, sometimes confusing physical acts for real intimacy (which, given their past, is highly problematic and confusing). They are in denial of their vulnerability and need for love and closeness._

Dean slammed the laptop shut. For a few minutes, he stared out across the room, not seeing anything. Finally he set his jaw and stood up. He scrawled a quick note to Sam and left the room. He desperately needed to clear his thoughts, and if the cool evening air didn’t do it, there was a bar he remembered passing just a few blocks from the motel.

When he spotted the place, he automatically headed toward the open door, but the article he’d just read gave him pause. The sound of country music and raised voices beckoned him from inside. “Son of a bitch,” he said under his breath, and turned away.

He walked eight more blocks, all the way to the end of town. Before him lay the flat highway. The only building he could see was a crumbling barn in the distance. He turned around and headed back the way he had come. This time he let himself enter the bar. He wasn’t going to get drunk; they still had a case to work. He just wanted to loosen up. It didn’t prove anything.

Halfway through his second beer, a woman hopped up on the stool next to his. She wore a plaid shirt and cutoff jean shorts. In the dim lights, her long bleached hair looked orange. She smiled as if she was used to getting a certain reaction from men. “Hey there sweetie, you’re not from here.” She had a light Tennessee accent. 

Dean turned on his stool to face her. “That’s right. You wanna show me the town?”

She laughed, slapping him playfully on the arm. “Would I ever!” She leaned forward as she spoke, and Dean couldn’t help but notice how far down her plaid shirt was unbuttoned. He dragged his eyes back up to her face. She’d noticed, but she wasn’t bothered. Instead, she placed her finger under his chin and bit her lip. “I like a guy who gets right to the point.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Heather.”

He took her hand, trying to think of a name to tell her. “Heather, that’s cute.” She was waiting for his name; no more stalling. “Dean.” He hadn’t meant to give her his real name. Shit. He let go of her hand, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

She crossed her legs and studied him. Her cutoff shorts were extremely short. Possibly shorter than he’d first noticed. She had fantastic legs. He could work with that.

“So, Dean,” she said with a coy smile. “You wanna buy me a drink, or just get out of here?”

Without meaning to, he licked his lips. She noticed, and he mentally kicked himself. The words “intimacy” and “physical acts” and “closeness” were bouncing around in his brain. 

He pushed himself off the stool and stood facing her. “You know what, I should probably go. I’m sorry.”

“Excuse me?” She looked pissed. Well, not pissed yet, exactly. More like she was deciding whether or not she ought to be pissed.

Dean gave a frustrated sigh. He had led her on, like some asshole. What would it hurt to just take it back, and spend an hour at her place? No harm, no foul. He’d never have to see her again. But if he were being honest with himself, that last bit was not in the plus column.

He straightened his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to mislead you. I would love to have you show me the town.” He took a swig of beer. “And the things I could-- God, those legs, are you kidding me?” He raised his eyebrows in appreciation.

She looked amused, a smile pulling at her lips. “And?”

"And... then adios.”

Heather blinked, confused. “Adios? That’s a problem for you?”

Dean laughed, surprising them both. “Honestly-- yeah. I’ve had too many adios.” He tried to lighten his words with a cocky grin, but it didn’t quite work. 

She chuckled, and he wasn’t sure if she was laughing at him or with him. “Well Dean, that was not what I expected to hear. Good luck.” He watched her strut over to the pool tables.  _Hate to see you go, but love to watch you walk away._  Dean whimpered. Her friends seemed genuinely surprised to see her return.

Resigned to the fate he had chosen, Dean turned back to the bar and chugged the last of his beer. The bartender noticed and pointed, his gesture asking if Dean wanted another. Dean shook his head as he fished for his wallet and slapped down a few bills. He nodded to Heather before he left. She waved, and gave him a confused smile.

It was fully dark now, and colder. He walked at a brisk pace, back toward the hotel. The impala was in the parking lot. He ran his hand over the hood as he passed. Barely warm; she’d been parked for some time.

Inside, Sam was sprawled on the couch, the television on.  He gave Dean a surprised puppy face. “Hey, I didn’t expect you back so early.”

Dean glanced at the alarm clock on a nightstand between the two beds. It was half past nine. “Yeah, me neither.”

Puppy eyes still stared. “Everything okay?”

“Eh--” Dean tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, and flopped down beside Sam on the couch. “I just wasn’t feelin’ it.”  As he settled in, his gaze landed on the laptop. It was open. The screen displayed an article from the local paper, not the psychology website Dean had been reading before he’d left. Still, his stomach lurched and twisted. Had he closed the browser?

Thankfully, Sam started rambling on about the townsfolk he’d interrogated. Dean was more than happy to talk shop for a while. They soon determined that some locals had faked the haunting at the post office as a lame attempt to draw in tourists. Tomorrow they would give those responsible a stern talking-to and put the fear of God in them. Or rather, the fear of Winchesters.

Sam half-turned on the couch. "So we’ve got some time to kill, wha’dya wanna do?”

Dean kicked off his shoes. He made a noncommittal sound and shrugged.

“Was the bar that bad?”

Dean shot him a questioning look.

“I have never seen you cut out that early unless it was a complete disaster. The mood you were in earlier? Dude, I figured you’d crawl in after sunrise with a hangover and a bunch of hickeys. What happened, were the girls all too young for you?”

For a moment, Dean was oddly still. Sam was starting to get nervous, wondering if he’d chosen the wrong moment to tease. Finally Dean gave a sigh. “Yeah, that sounds like me,” he said softly.

Sam just stared. His eyes flickered to the laptop, and back to his brother. He shifted on the couch, frowning. He opened and shut his mouth a few times before any words came out. “We don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. You want to take a detour, go see something?” Dean didn’t answer right away, so Sam pressed on. “Or we could head back to the bunker, maybe chill for a couple days?” Dean glanced over for a second, and something in his face surprised Sam.

“That’s cool. Works for me.”

Sam couldn’t believe the look he was seeing in his brother’s eyes. Never in a million years would he imagine Dean being introspective. He decided to test the waters a bit more. “After that, if nothing else comes up, we could check in on some people. Like, uh-- Garth? Jody? Cas?”

Dean nodded, but didn’t risk eye contact. “Sounds good.”

For a few long minutes, they both sat still as statues. Then Sam could have sworn he saw Dean smile before he stretched and got up. “Alright, little brother, I’m gonna shower and hit the hay.”

Sam nodded, and stretched his legs out onto Dean’s vacated end of the couch.  “Yep.”  He smirked. “Gotta take care of yourself.”

Dean spun around and glared, but Sam ignored him, fighting back a smile as he channel surfed.


End file.
